


One Tuesday Night

by IreneADonovan



Series: Nights and Days [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathtubs, Blow Jobs, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles in a Wheelchair, Charles-centric, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is a Sweetheart, I'm never sure how to tag these things, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 20:31:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10143401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: After the mansion is rebuilt. Charles is taking a bath and masturbating. Erik walks in on him and wants to talk. Among other things.Inspired by the following exchange on the Apocalypse gag reel --Erik: I love your body.Charles: I love my body, too. Every Tuesday night. And think of you.





	

Charles Xavier had gotten very good at not dwelling on what he'd lost. Except for on Tuesday nights. That was when he climbed into a warm bath, sipped a glass of his favorite scotch, considered his greatest regrets, and masturbated until he forgot them. Or didn't.  


Most weeks he'd emerge relaxed and ready to face whatever got thrown his way – the crises large and small that came with running a school, the myriad little frustrations that came with life in a wheelchair, the nonexistent state of his love life. This week that level of peace promised to be more elusive, given that his single biggest regret was currently residing in one of the upstairs bedrooms.  


Erik. During their search for other mutants and that whirlwind week here at the mansion, they had grown from strangers to friends into brothers, at least until the night before they'd left, when Erik had backed him up against a wall and planted a most unbrotherly kiss on his lips.  


Charles had kissed him back, enthusiastically, passionately, but when the kiss was finally over, they had just stared at each other like the frightened previously-thoroughly-straight men they both were. “We need to talk about this,” Charles had finally said.  
Erik had nodded. “After tomorrow.”  


Neither had imagined there would be no “after tomorrow” for the two of them, that the day would end with pain and betrayal and loss, that they would barely even speak for the next twenty years, let alone talk of that night, that kiss.  


Charles shook his head, scolding himself. He wasn't even in the tub yet. That was his rule – no getting maudlin until he was in the tub. He sighed, set his scotch where he'd be able to reach it, and tested the water temperature. Hot enough to soothe away the aches in his back and shoulders, but not so hot as to scald the insensate skin of his lower body.  


He lifted his legs over the edge of the tub then levered himself in. Only a little water sloshed over the edge this time. He arranged his legs in front of him then leaned back against the porcelain tub. The bathroom tiles were cold against his now-hairless head, so he tucked his washcloth behind his head for insulation.  


He let himself drift for long minutes, slowly sipping his scotch, as the water worked its magic, easing the tensions in his neck and shoulders, loosening sore muscles, soothing the burning ache in his lower back that, even after twenty years, had never entirely gone away.  


Only then did he begin to touch himself.  


He raked a fingernail across his right nipple with his left hand while he took his cock in the right. He was lucky enough to still retain some sensation there, though it was a bit like rubbing himself through a thick blanket. Still, with time and patience he could usually achieve release.  


He was making decent progress when he felt the brush of an approaching mind. Hank? No, Hank knew not to disturb him, and why. He had no secrets from Hank. Hank had cared for him during the two times in his life where he'd been unable to care for himself.  


The mind grew closer, and though its owner was good at guarding his thoughts, Charles knew. Erik.  


Charles glanced around as he heard the door to his suite creak open and Erik's footsteps advance inside. Feeling exposed and momentarily vulnerable, he briefly considered snagging the towel from his chair and hiding his wasted legs, but he'd given up hiding a long time ago, so he only dropped the washcloth over his privates.  


“Charles?” Erik called from the doorway.  


“I'm in the tub. You might as well come in.”  


He felt Erik's hesitation, but then the other man entered. “I guess I picked a bad time to want to talk.”  


_My friend, you have no idea._ “It's all right, Erik.”  


Erik's gaze swept over him, and Charles fought the urge to shrink away from those cool blue eyes. But Erik's voice betrayed an uncertainty his eyes did not. “Are you all right? After what that bastard did to you?”  


“Nothing that won't mend. Except maybe this.” He touched his smooth scalp. “It doesn't seem to be growing back.”  


A smile flickered at the corners of Erik's mouth then faded as quickly as it had appeared. “I'm sorry, old friend. If I hadn't joined with him--”  


“He would have found someone else, maybe someone worse. He was a madman bent on destruction.”  


“Most would say the same of me.”  


“I'm not most people.” Charles pushed away memories of the years, after Cuba, when he'd been all too willing to believe Erik a monster.  


“No, Charles, you're not.” Erik knelt beside the tub. “You're the best of all of us.” And with that he took Charles' head in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss.  


This kiss was gentler than their last, full of yearning and regret and loss, as well as twenty years of banked desire. They clung together, neither wanting to be the one to pull away, then finally separated in mutual accord.  


“Let's not wait twenty years to discuss this one,” Erik breathed.  


Charles nodded softly. “Let's not.” He studied his old friend carefully. “But are you sure about this? You're still grieving the loss of your wife and daughter, and I won't be the means through which you bury your sorrows. It's not fair to either of us.”  


“I never stopped loving you.” Erik's voice was hoarse, threatening to break. “Don't get me wrong – I loved Magda deeply, and Nina was my life, but a portion of my heart had already been claimed by you.”  


“Erik--”  


“I know I have no right to ask anything of you, not after everything I've done, everything I've done to you.” Erik's voice did break now, and he turned his face away.  


Charles leaned forward and caught Erik's hand, enfolding it in both of his. “You have my forgiveness, a thousand times over. I just wish you could forgive yourself.”  


A mirthless chuckle. “I'll work on it.”  


Charles lifted Erik's hand to his lips. “Good.”  


“Now could we get the hell out of here?” Erik said. “This tile is cold and it's hard and it's wet.”  


“The last two don't sound so bad,” Charles teased, then, at Erik's eye roll, said, “Of course. Go wait in the bedroom. It'll take me a few minutes to follow.”  


Erik regarded him carefully. “Would you trust me to carry you?”  


Charles answered without hesitation. “Yes.”  


Erik rose and stripped off his shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the vanity. Then he slipped one arm around Charles' back, the other under Charles' knees, and lifted him smoothly out of the water.  


Charles arms circled Erik's shoulders, and he drank in the sensation of being cradled against him, chest to chest, skin to skin. Erik's lips found his again, nibbling at his lower lip, and Charles shuddered against him.  


Erik carried Charles into the bedroom, laid him gently on the unmade side of the bed.  


“I'm not a porcelain doll, Erik. I won't break.”  


Erik eyed him soberly. “You already have. More than once.”  


Charles sighed, holding the other man's gaze. “Done is done. It's time to move on.” He allowed a smile to curve his lips upward. “Now get yourself naked and get in bed. I've been waiting twenty years to hold you. I don't want to wait any longer.”  


A smile, small but genuine enough to light Erik's eyes. Erik toed off his shoes, undid his belt and fly, then shoved both jeans and boxers down his long legs. He bent to strip them off his feet, affording Charles a view of his firm, muscular ass.  


Charles' breath quickened and he could sense his half-numb cock wanting to stir. The man's body was downright stunning – broad shoulders, solid chest, narrow waist, powerful legs.  


Erik pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed and climbed in, scooting over to snuggle close to Charles. “How's this?”  


_Just about perfect._ Charles nipped Erik's ear, eliciting a low groan from the other man.  


Erik trailed a line of kisses from Charles' throat down his breastbone, but he halted abruptly just above Charles's navel. “ _Scheiße_ ,” he muttered, flushing red as he glanced up. “I didn't think-- Can you even--?”  


“With enough time and patience,” Charles said softly, “but even if I couldn't, we'd find a way to make it good.”  


Erik smiled, the gentlest expression Charles had ever seen on the other man's face. “We have all the time in the world, all the time you need.” He kissed the hollow of Charles' throat. “Teach me what works for you.”  


_G-d, I love this man_ , Charles thought. “I hate to sound clinical,” he prefaced, then began explaining anyway. “I have full feeling down to about here.” He traced a line high on his hips. “Below that, there are a few patches on the right side, down to about here.” Another line, just above mid-thigh. “I only have partial sensation here.” He cupped his cock. “It feels a little like when your foot falls asleep, but without the pins and needles.”  


Erik was watching him intently, saying nothing, and Charles felt a flash of self-consciousness. Still, he pressed on. “But other parts of my body have become much more sensitive--”  


He was about to elaborate when Erik stopped him with a finger to his lips. “Let me figure that part out myself.”  


Erik's tongue swept the curve of Charles' ear, then he sucked lightly on the lobe, nipped it gently.  


A wordless groan escaped Charles' throat. Encouraged, Erik laid a trail of kisses along Charles' jawline and down his throat. Then he paused, asking, “How's that so far?”  


“Bloody marvellous.”  


Erik nuzzled the hollow of Charles' throat, flicked his tongue against the sensitive skin. He licked his way down to the center of Charles' chest, then halted and looked up, an odd expression on his face. “The hair tickles.”  


“Not everyone can have a chest as hairless as yours.” Mock-indignant.  


“I'm not complaining,” Erik said evenly. “It's just – different.”  


“For both of us.”  


Erik nodded, lowered his head again and sucked gently at Charles' right nipple. Charles gasped and arched upward, clenching handfuls of the sheets.  


Erik took hold of Charles' cock, stroking it vigorously, coaxing it to life. He continued to lick and nip at Charles' nipple, and the dual stimulation was almost enough. Almost.  


Charles fingered his other nipple, pinching it and rolling it, raking it with his nails, pleasure on the razor's edge of pain, as he edged toward climax. It still took a while, but Erik remained patient, cajoling and teasing Charles' flesh until Charles was teetering on the brink.  


And then he was coming, hard and hot and fast, almost like he was a randy teenager again, not a paraplegic entering middle-age.  


Erik leaned up and kissed him, hard and with a lot of tongue.  


“That was fucking amazing,” Charles said once Erik let him breathe. He glanced down at himself, smiled wryly. “And fucking messy.”  


Erik rose wordlessly, returning from the bathroom a minute later with a wet washcloth. As he crossed the room, Charles saw he was still quite hard.  


“That's hardly fair,” Charles said as Erik began to wash him. “Sit up by the head of the bed and I'll take care of that for you.”  


Erik looked up from his task. “Are you sure?”  


Charles met his gaze. “Absolutely.”  


Erik finished cleaning him up, returned the washcloth to the bathroom, then settled himself against the headboard, legs stretched out. “How's this?”  


“Bend your one leg up. I'm going to get between your legs.”  


He'd never sucked another man's cock before, never even wanted to, wouldn't want to now if it belonged to anyone other than Erik. He let his mind drift back for a moment, remembering what he had liked in the days when his cock had been a fully functioning part of his body.  


He began by licking it like an ice cream cone -- long, slow sweeps up the shaft and around the head. Erik groaned his enthusiasm, and Charles could feel his muscles tremble as he fought to stay still.  


Charles took Erik in his mouth, sliding down the length of Erik's shaft then slowly back up, his lips maintaining a steady pressure, his teeth occasionally grazing the sensitive flesh.  


Erik shuddered beneath him. A memory stirred in Charles' brain, and he began to hum as his mouth bobbed up and down on Erik's cock.  


“ _Mein Gott!_ ” Charles wasn't sure whether the words were a curse or a prayer, but Erik's hips bucked upwards, and Charles caught the thought _More!Faster!Harder!Now!_  


Charles obliged.  


Not more than a minute later, Erik threw his head back and arched his spine, a wordless cry echoing in his throat as he came in Charles mouth. The thick liquid was hot and salty, odd but not really unpleasant.  


Erik collapsed in a boneless heap against the headboard. ”Oh, fuck, Charles!”  


Charles chuckled. “That was kind of the idea.”  


“Just please tell me we're not going to wait twenty years to do that again.”  


Charles pillowed his head on Erik's thigh, smiled contentedly. “I wouldn't dream of it, my love.”


End file.
